


The Somewhat Compromising Life of Dirk Strider

by meagle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: I'm not good at tags, Jane is a sweetheart, M/M, dirk is a mess as usual, don't know what i'm doing yet, i dont know, i swear i tried im sorry if it sucks, im sorry the chapters are short, jake is a nerd but actually intelligent thank you very much, maybe a mystery, roxy went through AA, slow burn (?), they're not playing AU, this is literally the first time i've ever done this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-13 09:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13567536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meagle/pseuds/meagle
Summary: Dirk goes for a walk.And then some other stuff happens.*This is a work in progress and I'm probably going to be going back and editing old chapters, mostly for length because these are disppointingly short*





	1. Chapter 1

Anyone will tell you that I’m not like most people.  
One of those reasons being that I quite like the rain. Where most people find desolation and hopeless days, I find cleansing renewal.  
I quite like going for walks in the rain, droplets tamping down my painstakingly styled bone-white hair. It feels like the world is empty; like I’m the only one here. But instead of desolate, it seems only…freeing. There’s no one left to judge me, to decide they know me better than I know myself.  
It’s on one of those walks that I meet him.  
His hair is dark and tousled in such a way; I can’t tell if it’s styled or effortless. It would be irritating if his face weren’t so open and good-natured.  
His easy-going grin catches me off guard as he saunters towards me. I would question where, exactly, he came from and how it seems like he almost just appeared, but I’m rather distracted by internal screaming. His green eyes (wow, that’s cool. And surprisingly hot.) dance with lightheartedness.  
“Hey there, chum!” Oh god. I’d laugh at his 1800’s-esqe syntax if not for the quite incredible accent. Could this get any worse?  
It could.  
He holds out a tan hand, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he wants a handshake. Meaning contact. Sorry, but fuck no.  
I awkwardly wave and the smoothness with which he retracts the offered hand is enviable.  
“Didn’t expect another rain-walker.” He grins. “We’re a rare breed.”  
“Uh.” Smooth one, Dirk. “Yeah, I guess.” I don’t understand how he’s so calm and collected while I’m an awkward, nervous wreck for just having to talk to a cute guy. I have too much social anxiety for this shit.  
“The name’s Jake.” He says, shoving his hands into his pockets and tilting his head back to let the rain fall on his face, revealing miles of smooth neck.  
“Strider. Dirk - Strider.” I stumble out, trying not to fidget as my gaze remains locked on his neck. His head suddenly whips up to meet my eyes, and I drop my face to the ground, flushing. My usual aloofness and haughty stares are nowhere to be found.  
“You did the James Bond thing!” He yelps and I feel disbelief color my features. As subtly as I can. How can such a collected hottie be such a nerd?  
“Uh. Yeah, I suppose I did.”  
“Oh, and you sounded so sick, too!” He’s almost worryingly excited. “Whenever I say it, it’s just-” He deepens his voice and does his best to flatten his face. “English. Jake English.”  
“You sound cool.” I protest. Calmly. ‘Cause I’m cool like that.  
“Oh, that’s jolly nice of you, but really. Dirk Strider.” I like the sound of my name on his tongue. “That’s so much better!”  
“Er. Thank you?” I manage to look at something other than him and notice that the rain’s starting to let up.  
“Oh.” He frowns at the sky. “I need to go now. But-” He grins at me, and it’s a weird mix of sexy and adorable that’s really doing it for me. “I’ll see you again, Dirk Strider.” He smiles again pronouncing my name, and I revel in the soft way it rolls out of his mouth. With that, he turns and returns the way he came. And then he must turn a corner because just as the rain stops, I blink and he’s gone.  
I stand there for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

When I finally return to the apartment, Roxy’s curled up on the couch with approximately enough blankets to melt the North Pole.  
“Hey, nerd.” She says as I walk in, without looking up from her laptop. I snort, comfortable enough to only when I’m at home with her, and go out of my way to muss her hair on my way to the kitchen.  
Digging through the fridge for some of Jane’s leftover lasagna (heaven) and snatching a bottle of Sriracha from our Sriracha cabinet (also heaven) I inquire about the current reason she has her fingers flying over her keyboard.  
“Hm. I’m bored and wanted something fun to puzzle out, so I thought I’d try my hand at hacking the federal government database or something.”  
“Why?” I laugh. At that, she stops completely and slowly looks up at me, completely deadpan.  
“Aliens.” I hold her gaze as long as I can before bursting into laughter. She grins and turns back to her laptop.  
Finishing my cold lasagna, I drop my dishes in the sink (“You better wash that later!”) and retreat to my room.  
It welcomes me with open arms. Tidy and sure. I take in the swords on the wall, the robotics table that’s covered in parts, the array of puppets on one corner of my window seat. I settle on the other side with my sketchbook and stare outside. Think of the boy in the rain. Jake. Turn my attention to the blank page and start sketching. Him on the corner. His huge grin. His head turned up to the rain and that neck. Something about them just don’t look right. I turn my attention back to his smile. His eyes, maybe? I worry it until it’s more pencil than paper, then give up and start over. That soft grin. The way he looked at me as he said my name. And something about it’s just not right. I drop my sketchbook on the floor and throw my pencil down after it with more force than necessary. I just need to see him again. I just can’t quite remember how he looks. I need to study him some more. Looking back outside, I notice that the rain’s starting to fall again.  
Damn Seattle. Rox moved out here to be with Jane and of course I followed. Because I have no spine.  
It’s too cold and wet. I miss Texas and the heat. The constant sun. The dry knee-high grass. Running around all day, only returning home to Bro when the sun had set.  
And somewhere. Buried deep in my memory. A kid. My best friend. Whoa, what the fuck? I don’t remember another kid.  
I sit up straighter and try to think. Messy dark hair and happy green eyes.  
Climbing trees and turning an old picnic table into a castle, a pirate boat, secret ruins. Splinters. Falling and running to Bro, screaming, calming to a whimper as he cleaned the scrapes and cured each one with a Band-Aid and a kiss.  
What. The fuck.  
Swimming in the creek behind my house. Late night slumber parties and movies, giggles and whispers and loud hushing when we hear Bro shift in bed next door. Chasing after crawfish. Bro grinning when I show him one I caught.  
A brand-new fishbowl. A name. Bro reminding me to feed it.  
Running away, hiding as Bro comes to find us, our giggles give us away and him pretending not to notice anyway.  
And years later, sitting in a tree, watching a sunset. It’s beautiful. His green eyes stare at me until I turn. His hands shake as he pulls my sunglasses off. I wince, look away, and he pulls my head back. Drops my shades onto the ground far below. They’re fine. He stares at me, my hideous orange eyes, and I fall into his huge green ones. Somehow, despite my confusion, some part of me knows what’s happening as he leans in. A soft kiss. Lips against lips. Only a few seconds. Then pulling away. Blushing. Staring at my hands, the sun, anything but him. He wilts. Hesitates a few seconds before dropping out of the tree and leaving.  
Running home to Bro. Asking him about liking boys. Crying. Him holding me. Both of us ignoring, just for a night, that I’m too old for this.  
Seeing him at school, starting eighth grade. Avoiding him. Watching him like a hawk in the classes we share. Seeing him grow. Flourish. Learn to live without me. His happy grins, his messy hair, and those eyes.  
Horrible arguments with myself in my room. Crying. Hating myself as I drag my hand down my dick to thoughts of him. More crying. Thankfulness that my shades cover my puffy eyes.  
Meeting Roxy. Going wild. Parties and alcohol every night.  
Bro waiting up for me. Yelling at me. We’re both crying. He begs me to stop. Begs me to stay with him.  
I leave.


	3. Chapter 3

I shoot up and stumble out of my room.  
“Rox! Hey, Rox!” She’s still on the couch.  
“You wondering about the alien search? I’m not in yet.” She says with a smile, turning to look at me.  
“No. I-no. You remember how we met?” I ask, feeling crazed.  
“Shit yes! Man, those were the days. We should go out more often.”  
“Rox, you’re not allowed to have alcohol. You’ll have to go through AA all over again. But that’s not the point. So. Middle school, right?”  
“…Yeah? Dirk, honey, are you okay?”  
“I will be in a second. Do you remember that kid?” I ask, waving my hands. She gives me a long, level look.  
“‘That kid.’ Yeah, sweetie, as if it were yesterday.” I start to puff up, excited before I recognize the sarcasm dripping from her voice.  
“Oh! Right. Uh, tan, messy dark hair, green eyes that make your dick go ‘oh, wow.’. Er- ovaries?” Her eyebrows furrow.  
“Shit! Uh. Shit. Lemme think. It sounds so familiar.”   
“Here! I-here.” I sprint back to my room, grab my sketchbook – double back for my pencil – and furiously flip to a new page.  
“He looked like…this. I think.” My pencil flies across the page. I make a few mistakes and curse, having to pause and rub them out.  
“Oh, wow! Am I going to get to see in the great Strider’s sketchbook?”  
“Shut up, Rox. You remember him?” I hold the book up, and she squints, leaning forward to look at it.  
“Oh, for fucks-move all these damn blankets.” I drop down next to her and hand her the book.  
“Damn! That’s good, Stri.” She looks up at me, smiling, and I gently slap her.  
“Not right now. Do you remember him or am I going insane?”  
“God! I don’t know. He looks familiar, I guess. I don’t remember.” Before I can stop her, she flips back through the last few pages. Or she would if she didn’t stop on the one before. The guy in the rain.  
“Hey, is that him again?” she says, pointing. “Sexy.” She growls, and I shove her away as she laughs.  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rox.” Looking down, I guess I could see the resemblance. It’s probably the hair. Or the eyes.  
“Text your Bro! His mind is like an elephant.” She says, looking up at me like a cat.  
“Damn, Rox, you’ve gone off the deep end.” I don’t talk to him. He shut me out. He dropped me when I was just a kid. Though looking back on recent realizations, what if it was the other way around?  
I can’t believe I completely forgot.  
“Think about it. I hope you find your new ‘friend.’” She decides, turning back to her laptop.  
“More like an old friend. A very, very old friend.” I mutter, looking down at the drawing of the kid again.


	4. Chapter 4

Back in my room, I stare at my phone. Bro’s name is open in the contacts and I hesitate over the text button. I might remember on my own, given enough time. Or I could have an awkward call with him that ends in information (hopefully).  
Or I could have an awkward call with him that ends in yelling and gets me nowhere.  
And makes me cave first.  
Sighing, I throw my phone down and fall back on my bed. The picture Roxy and I pinned up grins back down at me, Rox grinning giddily with a martini in her hand and her straps sliding down her shoulders, the face of an elated drunk, and me to her left. Stoic. Hiding behind those shades. These shades. I pull them off my face and sigh.  
Who am I?  
After all these years, what have I amounted to?  
Nothing more than an arrogant idiot with daddy (brother?) issues and a single friend. Or one and a half, if you count Jane. She’s always liked Rox more.  
I don’t have any impact on the world.  
If I just disappeared, nobody would notice.  
Shit. I’ve got nothing. I’ve done nothing. In the twenty-six years I’ve had on this planet, I’ve only managed to mean something to three people. Three people.  
Four?  
That kid pops into my head again.  
His grinning eyes, toothy smiles, weird language.  
Weird language.  
Almost as if he was from the 1800s.  
I fly up, scrambling for my book again, and frantically flip to the final pages again.  
The kid.  
The man in the rain.  
Back to the kid.  
No way.  
No. Fucking. Way.  
I think of the British boy with the vast, hopeful green eyes and soft lips. His constant tan and beaming face. White teeth and green glasses.  
Back to the man in the rain.  
Green glasses.  
“Oh, God.” I rake my fingers through my hair.  
“Oh, God.” Move to hide my face in my hands.  
How? That was in Texas, years ago. Fifteen, at least.  
Did he recognize me? Oh, no. Ohhhhh, no.  
“Rox!” I scream.  
“What!” She calls back.  
“Do I look like I did in middle school?”  
“Shit. I don’t know. Yeah.”  
Fuck.  
I’m fucked.


	5. Chapter 5

Looking back down at my sketchbook, I analyze the face of the man in the rain again. Something about it just isn’t quite right. The angle of his jaw, or the shape of his lips. Something.  
If I could just see him again, I could fix it.  
I need to see him again.  
For the drawing, obviously.  
It’s definitely for the drawing.  
I glance outside, where the grey sky is darkening, then check my phone’s clock. 7:30. Too late.  
Tomorrow, then.  
I sigh and stare outside as the sun slowly lowers.  
The kid again. Sleeping out in a tent in the backyard. We’re maybe fourteen. Just a while before the kiss. A little drunk off sugar and sleep deprivation. Neither of us is thinking straight. I’m staring at the roof of the tent, trying to ignore my hyperawareness of him. I feel like there’s a hole in my chest and my heart in my throat.  
I never felt weird around him before. I’m not sure why I do now.  
He shifts and I freeze as his calf brushes along mine. Oh god oh god oh god.  
“Dirk?” Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.  
“Hm?” I try to sound half asleep when in all honesty I couldn’t feel more awake.  
“You up?”  
“Obviously, fucknuts.” I can hear him grin in the darkness. I do too.  
“Why are you still wearing your sunglasses?” He asks, out of the blue.  
“W-What?” Just when I thought my heart rate was at maximum, it speeds up.  
“Why are you still wearing your sunglasses? We’re going to sleep.”  
“Oh. I. Uh. I mean. I always do.”  
“You’re sleeping!”  
“…Did I ever tell you why I wear them in the first place?”  
“No. You just started one day. I thought they made you look like an idiotic douchebag. Still kind of do, to be honest.” He grins again and rolls over to look at me. I can see the gleam of his teeth and green, green, green eyes in the dark out of my peripheral vison. I let my gaze flicker over just once before returning to the ceiling.  
“I guess I just realized…Orange isn’t a normal color. Nobody ever has orange anything, especially not eyes. It’s weird. And I don’t mind, I never really liked them anyway.”  
“Hair.” He murmurs, edging closer to me. I keep my eyes locked upwards as he drags his fingers up the soft under skin of my forearm, unable to suppress a gulp.  
“W…What?” My voice is husky. I hate it. I’m usually so good at controlling my emotions. Except for around him. He sees through me instantly. Most of the time, I don’t even bother anymore.  
This is not one of those times.  
“Some people have orange hair.” He takes his hand from my arm and instead takes my shades off, placing them gently at the edge of the tent. How he’s hovering over me, right in my line of vison. I finally tear my eyes away from the blue fabric of the tent and let my gaze flicker over his face, resting at his mouth. I lick my lips and he looks down at my mouth, too.  
“I stand corrected. Orange eyes are still weird.”  
“I like them.” He looks back to my eyes again. His hand hovers over my left cheek, close enough for me to feel its warmth without the skin actually meeting mine.  
“That makes one of us.”  
“I like them. They’re pretty. You’re pretty, Dirk Strider.” I gape at him. He smiles again as he says my name, and I revel in the soft way it rolls out of his mouth.  
My eyelids flutter as I wait for him to kiss me.  
And wait.  
And wait.  
And wait.  
Wait. What am I thinking? I’m not gay. His hand still floats near my cheek and I grab it, pulling it away.  
“Goodnight, Jake.” I say, then roll away from him, towards the edge of the tent.  
But I don’t let go of his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Jake! The revelation of a name shakes me out of my reverie.  
“Rox!” I shout again and I hear a sigh from the other room.  
“Just come talk to me, Dirky.”  
“Jake!” I announce, sliding into the room. She’s still working on those damn aliens.  
“What?”  
“The kid. His name was Jake. He was my best friend until I met you and we went fuckin wild.”  
“Uh. Yeah, I’m sorry, D-stri. Still not ringing a bell.” She shakes her head. Dammit. “Why is this bothering you so much? It’s just some kid from-what, ten years ago?”  
“Fifteen. Ugh, forget it.”  
“You can talk to me, okay?” The worry in her eyes makes me realize how crazy I sound.  
“Yeah. I. Just. Yeah. I know.” I run my hands through my hair and look out the window. Anywhere but her worried face.  
“Dirk.” I can feel her gaze on my face and involuntarily turn to look at her. “What’s going on.” Her voice is hard, and it’s not even a question. She doesn’t give me an opportunity to refuse to answer. Damn, that’s a good trick. I’ll have to remember it.  
“I just.” I sigh and drop into a chair, crossing my arms. “We-we were best friends, Rox. This kid and I? We were best fucking friends.”  
“Then go track him down and say hey. I don’t see the problem.”  
“We just-he tried to-I mean-Ugh. We were really close until. Well. We-we disagreed on a certain-” How do I phrase this? “Idea. We’d never disagreed on anything before, and then all of a sudden this huge thing came looming out of fucking nowhere and we didn’t agree on anything about it. So we just. He-I don’t know. Okay, Rox? I have no fucking clue. I guess you could say he confronted me about it and I didn’t want to follow the same plan as he did so he just. Left. And we never spoke again.”  
“That sounds exceedingly dramatic.”  
“We were in like. Eighth or ninth grade. Yeah, it’s going to be dramatic. And I think I’m kind of under stressing how big of a fucking deal this was.”  
“What, like some girl, or something?”  
“Shit. No. We’re not that fucking stupid.” I frown and she laughs. She actually laughs.  
“Bros before hos?”  
“Fuck off. I know I shouldn’t have told you.”  
“Aww, come on. What was the big thing, anyway?”  
“I don’t want to talk about it, Rox.”  
“Come onnnnnnn.”  
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” I stand up and turn away.  
“Awwww, you said you’d tell me.”  
“No I didn’t.”  
“Come on, Dirky!”  
“I don’t want to fucking tell you, Rox!” I spin on her, eyes wild. “It’s personal and awkward and embarrassing and I was stupid and didn’t do what I should have done and I haven’t even remembered it all yet and I don’t want to tell you.” She shrinks back, my usual cue to stop and leave, but all my anger and frustration and confusion is rushing out of me and I’m not sure I have the strength to stop it. Not sure if I want to. “Just back the fuck off! Don’t you get that I don’t want to talk about it? If you weren’t such a nosy little bitch, I wouldn’t have had to tell you about it at all! I don’t know what the fuck is going on, Rox. I’m confused and-” I cut myself off before I admit that I’m just a tiny bit scared. Maybe. Not really. I’m just- “And I don’t need to have to juggle an irritating roommate with all the rest of this shit that’s going on!” Her eyes are extra shiny and I close my eyes, turn away, before I have to see her cry. I don’t want so see that I’ve pushed her to tears. I can’t.  
“Oh, come on, Dirk! You say I’m the irritating roommate? You’ve been talking at me about some random kid all day and as soon as I ask why you flip your shit and start yelling at me! You say you don’t know what’s going on, but here I am doing my best to help while I know even less because you won’t tell me! Don’t you dare blame me, Dirk. Don’t you fucking dare blame me.” Before I can retort, she flings he blankets off-her beloved laptop landing on the floor and making us both flinch, though we both pretend neither did-and storms off to her room.  
Well there goes my dramatic exit. I feel even more angry at myself for the sarcastic jokes right now, of all times, and start the retreat back to my room. Before I go far, I stop abruptly and return to the couch, kneeling down and gently picking up Roxy’s laptop. All the upgrades I’ve done for her over the years make the thing a little awkward, but I know she adores it anyway. For it to have broken, and because of me at that, would break my heart. I don’t need to look carefully to see that it shattered. Despite my best efforts to make it shockproof, her hurling it onto the floor was too much for the poor thing to handle. The screen broke completely, cracks everywhere and big pieces missing. The lid cracked in the fall and some of the upgrade pieces tacked onto the outside of the computer, contributing to its strange shape, snapped off completely. Others were mangled and broken, and even some of the keys, which I had painstakingly removed and customized, had fallen out. My only hope was that the main core of the system was intact, or else the entire thing would probably be wiped.  
Oh god, what have I done?  
Somehow it just illustrated how much I’d fucked up with Roxy. We were both socially awkward and slow to trust but quick to hate. Our relationship was built on years of complete and utter honesty, along with constant favors, forced lack of expectancy for reciprocation, and, slowly, trust that there were no secrets or lies between us. For me to keep something from her was breaking that unspoken rule and the bond that came with it. Even if I went and told her about it right now, it would take me months, maybe years, to rebuild her trust in me.  
And I’m not telling her. Not yet, at least. I need to sort this out first. If I was to go to her, I’d need a complete story.  
I look down at the machine in my hands.  
And a complete laptop.


End file.
